A Train to City Lights
by counterpunch
Summary: fem!kristoff prompt: She even had to set her own leg after it broke, and suffice to say she'd rather be snapping her own bones back into place than deal with this. She swats at one of the hands near her head. "Miss, you must stop moving," one of the maids insists.


Krista's been in some uncomfortable situations before. There was one time she lost one of her rock picks mid-climb and had to use her boot to make it across the underside of the cliff. Once she fell through the ice on a late-spring harvesting trip and nearly died of pneumonia.

Heck she even had to set her own leg after it broke, and suffice to say she'd rather be snapping her own bones back into place than deal with this.

She swats at one of the hands near her head.

"Miss, you _must_ stop moving," one of the maids insists.

Krista huffs with a scowl.

"And stop crossing your arms, you'll ruin the fabric before the ball even begins," the maid (Greta? Gerta?) says exasperatedly and pries Krista's arms apart.

She tries, she really tries, because Krista knows how much this means to Anna, so she grits her teeth and tries to pretend its snow falling instead of powder being plastered on her face.

_"Close your eyes," Anna'd said. _

_"You're not going to run me into a pole again, are you?" _

_"No! That-" Anna makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a frustrated growl, "That was __one time__. And besides. You were fine." _

_"You gave me a concussion," Krista says flatly._

_"You were fine," Anna insists._

_"Ok. Fine with a concussion."_

_"Would you just close your eyes?!" Anna yells._

_Krista smirks. It's too easy sometimes. "All right, feisty pants, my eyes are closed."_

_Of all the things though, a dress? It was a strapless number with a bodice embroidered with gold and red patterns that flow out into a skirt. "Uhh. It's a dress?" She says, unsure exactly of what the point is. _

_"And?" Anna bounces excitedly and bites her lip, absolutely unable to contain herself. _

_"And….it's a really nice dress?"_

_"Of course it is! I picked it out just for you!"_

_Her stomach drops._

_Krista knows her face falls but quickly tries to mask her shock and pretends to be thrilled because Anna's looking at her like __**that**_**,**_ and she can't bear to disappoint her. _

But as the ball grew closer, the knot in Krista's stomach got heavier, and lying to Anna got harder ("Of course, I'm excited," she'd said, grimacing inside). Her dread grew, because what does she know about balls and dancing and playing dressing up? Her only concern about her appearance had been to make a messy braid so her hair wouldn't get in the way out on the ice. Her hands were calloused, with cracked nails and thick scars- the exact opposite of a dainty and delicate noble's. She'd never belong. Her body made sure of it.

But Anna'd looked at her with those pleading eyes, she was so _excited_, and who was Krista to deny her anything?

So she thought of Anna as she sat in a cushioned seat that did nothing to _actually_ make the seat comfortable. It was Anna's face she saw while the dressmaker made last-minute adjustments, poking and prodding her for the better part of two hours. And while the handmaids plastered makeup all over her face, it was Anna's smile keeping her still when she could hardly _breathe_ in this thing, feeling exposed and half-naked.

One of the maids yanks on her hair as its pulled out of a curler. Krista yelps and claps a hand to her head, rubbing where it smarts and before she knows it, tears are starting to needle in her eyes.

_This is so stupid_.

Krista hates herself, hates that she can't handle a stupid dress for Anna, hates that she's never felt weaker or most exposed. She's handled the harshest winters and here she is, crying at some stupid makeup and and some _stupid_ dress that she would never look good in, anyway. All she feels is _ridiculous_ and _stupid_, clunky and ugly, like a dressed-up bear in one of the traveling comedy troupes she saw once as a girl.

She's ill-fitted for all this, playing pretend at something she could never be. How could she ever be what Anna deserves.

The chair scrapes as she stands abruptly and hurries to the door as fast as she can manage in the _stupid _impractical shoes.

"Miss!" one of the maids calls after her, but she has to get out, has to-

As she reaches for the doorknob, the handle turns and she stumbles into a very startled Elsa.

_Great. This is just great_.

The Queen's eyes widen in surprise but she composes herself quickly and catches Krista by the elbows. "Is everything all right? I heard a shout."

Krista's pretty sure she wishes she were at the bottom of the gorge with her broken sled because her face feels like its on fire and she literally fell into a _queen_, and not just any queen, it's Anna's _sister, _and-

"Krista?"

She finally manages to tear her eyes away from the floor and Elsa's looking at her with the most kind and gentle gaze. There's worry in her eyes too, and all it does is make things worse.

"Krista, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbles embarrassed and fidgets uncomfortably, pulling down the edges of the bodice, "I was just-" gesturing emptily at the dress.

Elsa looks at her for a moment, then jerks her chin up knowingly. She turns and strides gracefully down the hallway, "Come with me."

Krista blushes, knowing full well the proper chastising that awaits her for ruining hours' worth of work and money. She follows behind, walking very much like a dog with its tail between its' legs.

It seems like they walk forever but eventually Elsa opens the door into what appears to be her private quarters. Krista's alarmed, to say the least, but she's grateful to be yelled at in privacy instead of in front of all the maids.

"Sit," the Queen says, pointing to the couch in front of her bed.

Krista's head is bowed, apology ready on the tip of her tongue. She takes a deep breath but before she can start, Elsa interrupts.

"I'm not sure if the fit will be right, you're a bit more broad in the shoulders than I am," Elsa says as she opens wide both doors to her wardrobe, "But I'm sure we can call the dressmaker back. She couldn't have gotten far."

She turns back around toward Krista with two dresses draped on either arm. "What do you think," she asks.

The dresses are long and beautiful, with long sleeves and high collars, gorgeous patterns and intricate rosemaling.

Krista's eyes open wide. "Your Majesty," she stammers, "I couldn't-"

"I don't wear these as often as I used to," Elsa says with a fond smile. "I don't really have to anymore. But I remember how uncomfortable I felt. Before. On display and terrified."

There's a sadness behind Elsa's eyes and she seems far away for a moment. But then she blinks and smiles, almost shyly, and looks back at Krista.

"Anna has excellent taste, and she means well, but…I think perhaps these might be a little more to your comfort than the one my sister chose for you."

If Krista was shocked before, she's completely struck dumb now. She doesn't even know where to begin. "Your Maje-"

"Elsa," she says. "Please. Just Elsa."

"Elsa," Krista corrects, even though it feels more weird than _Your Majesty,_ "I.." she trails off, tracing the embroidery with a finger and runs her hand along the length of the sleeve. She swallows, overcome, and understands a little more why Anna loves her sister so much. "I would be honored," she says sincerely.

By the time Elsa is finished getting her ready, she honestly doesn't even recognize herself. And not in a bad way, this time. Krista brings her hands up toward her face as she stares in awe at her reflection. She manages to touch her cheek in wonder before Elsa swats her hand away playfully. "Don't play with it, I _just_ finished. You want to look nice for Anna, don't you?"

And she must, because when she makes her way down the stairs later, Anna stands dumbstruck.

"You're beautiful," she finally breathes.

Krista knows Anna's seen some dazzling and amazing things. She grew up in a palace after all, and her sister, for one, can fashion snowballs into being from her fingertips. But even in a crowded ballroom surrounded by princes and princesses, Anna looks at her like she's the only person in the world, and for the first time in her life, Krista knows what it's like to feel pretty.

She loves the way Anna feels in her arms when they dance; loosely as they twirl and spin and Anna laughs, or closely, with Anna in her arms, sometimes gently resting her head against her shoulder. Krista catches Elsa smiling at them from the side of the room and she doesn't think her heart could be any more full.

It has to be a fairy tale, because Krista the ice harvester has a princess to call her own.

Anna slides her arms up around her back to hold onto her shoulders swaying slowly, closely, almost in a hug. Krista sighs happily, and as rests her head against Anna's, she knows she's home. And she feels beautiful.

and a magical queen watching over them.


End file.
